Hit & Run
by Mellaithwen
Summary: While on the case of a murdered ten year old, tragedy hits the CSI team. Can they keep focused while grieving for a friend? And is there a link between the two deaths? Character Death. COMPLETED
1. Angels Calling

**Hit & Run**

**By Mellaithwen**

**Rating: T**

**Genre: General/Angst**

**Disclaimer: Anything recognizable as CSI and it's characters belongs to Anthony Zuiker and not me. The song lyrics belong to Rooster.**

**Additional Disclaimer: Spoilers for s5, the team has been split but as far as time frame goes I'm not going into specifics...it's difficult enough as it is**

**Summary: While on the case of a murdered ten year old, tragedy hits the CSI team. Can they keep focused while grieving for a friend? And is there a link between the two deaths? Character Death**

**Chapter 1, Angel's Calling**

A man on his break, from what had been, and still was, a very hectic day of work. Crossing the road. Headlights shining, breaks screeching, his eyes wide, his body frozen in the middle of the road as it came straight for him. A scream, a shout, and an eerie silence stolen by the revving of the land rover as it went into reverse and left the scene of the accident, leaving the man bleeding. Dying alone, in the middle of a deserted road.

* * *

Sara Sidle walked up the small hill to her apartment building. Dark clouds formed above and she held the jacket closer around her as the wind picked up. For a day in the desert it was quite cold.

She had finally given in to Grissom and taken a day off. They had been working on a young girl's murder and they had no leads. The killer was smart and the case had taken a lot out of the entire team. Night shift and swing shift were pulling doubles and working together on this one.

Jenna Mason was ten years old, she had been walking home from school when she was attacked. Her body had been found the next day, she had been raped, but whoever it was had been very careful and they hadn't been able to get any foreign DNA, and ever since then the CSI's had been working hard to get her attacker behind bars where he belonged.

After Grissom had seen Sara almost fall asleep, while walking towards him no less, he practically ordered her to take the day off. She had protested, claiming it was nothing, but her supervisor was having none of it.

Eventually she had agreed but instead of going straight home she had gone to get a bite to eat before returning home. Parking her car she made her way to her apartment building; a fair walk away.

She saw a shadow behind the trees as she passed them but she ignored it. The rain had slowly begun and was picking up its pace, quickly soaking Sara to the skin. Her steps quickened as she continued to walk.

She heard a rustling and suddenly she could hear the footsteps of someone keeping up with her long strides as if they were small, easy steps.

She looked up and was surprised to see Greg standing next to her.

'_Funny,'_ she thought _'He can never keep up with me in the field.'_

He only wore thin clothes but he didn't seem any colder in the pelting rain, and she noted, with slight amusement, he was wearing the same clothes she had seen him in last night.

She stopped in her steps, despite the now thundering skies above her growling for attention.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, not bothering to hide the smile on her lips. Greg smiled back, though his cheeks blushed slightly.

"I, uh, missed you today." He answered, stumbling over his words. Now it was Sara's turn to blush, she smiled sheepishly and continued to walk, knowing he would follow.

"Bad night?" Sara asked, referring to his lack of wardrobe change.

"You could say that," Greg answered simply. There was a silence until he broke it.

"So, how was your day?"

The lab was incredibly backlogged, and though Greg was an official CSI Grissom had kept him in the lab to help get back on track. He hadn't really been a part of this most recent case. For that much, he was lucky, though Sara was certain he didn't see it that way.

"Not the best, yours?"

Greg faltered slightly and looked at her sceptically. Wouldn't this have gone under the "Bad night?" comment? He looked at Sara and saw she was still waiting for an answer. He sighed before replying. "Same,"He looked up to the skies. "Guess it's the rain."

Sara cocked her head to the side, wondering how something that had started only a few minutes ago could be the cause of a bad day.

"Well you never get rain when it's a good day, right? Nature reflecting life..." Greg trailed off, looking straight up at the skies. He stretched his head backwards so he faced the skies completely. Water hit his face, but he didn't care. He closed his eyes and relished in it, as though it was foreign to him, then again, in Nevada it usually was.

Sara stopped too. She didn't intend to but she found herself staring at Greg. His normally spiky hair was flattened by the rain, drenched locks dripping onto his face. Sara waited patiently, finding it oddly soothing to watch Greg do this. A raindrop hit her neck and trailed down her back, alerting her back to the very wet present.

"Come on Greg, we'll freeze out here." She said as she took hold of he arm and practically dragged him the rest of they way.

As they reached the doorway, Sara fumbled for her key in her pocket. Once found, she turned it in the lock and jumped inside into the warmth, away from the cold corridors of her apartment building.

Sara made her way into the kitchen and made them both some coffee. She made her way to the living room with the cups in her hands.

"Shouldn't you be in work?" Sara asked Greg as he sat on her couch but declined the hot drink. Knowing how backlogged the lab had gotten recently

He looked straight at her, "No." His calm tone telling her he would say no more. They sat in comfortable silence for quite some time. It was nice, she was just sitting there, but Sara felt incredible comfort from having Greg by her side.

She felt his gaze on her and turned to look at him. He opened his mouth but closed it again. He wanted to say something but was clearly finding it hard to do so. He had leaned in closer and continued to do so. He looked as though he had just found the courage to speak up when the phone rang suddenly. Greg didn't flinch but Sara did. She had been staring at Greg for so long that the sudden sound scared her.

"I better get that," Sara declared as she began to get up. Greg's hand shot out from nowhere and took hold of her wrist. She looked at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"What's the hurry?" He asked quickly, desperate for her to stay.

Sara laughed as though it was the stupidest thing in the world.

"Well people tend to hang up after a while..."

"Yeah, but why not just," He paused "leave it?"

"Greg, it could be Grissom or something."

"Or Nick," Greg sighed, knowing he had lost.

"Or Sofia or some sales guy, either way, I'm gonna answer it."

Sara stood up from the sofa and made her way to the small table near the door where the phone rested, still ringing furiously. Her back was to Greg, she didn't see his sad gaze, she didn't see him close his eyes and swallow the lump in his throat. Greg knew he'd missed his chance.

"Sara? It's Nick." The voice announced as she picked up the phone. Sara smiled, suppressing a chuckle. She would have to congratulate Greg on his guess. She reached into her pocket, and looked at her mobile. The screen glowed as the writing said "Fifteen missed calls."

'_Why so many?'_ She wondered, cursing herself for leaving it on silent for so long. The call list revealed almost everyone on both the night shift and swing. Clearly, they had wanted to get through to her.

"Hey Nick, what's up?" She asked. No reply. Maybe there was a sudden break in the case and she was needed, had her casual question annoyed him enough to stop his conversation completely?

She could hear a deep breath on the other end as Nick braced himself, but for what she did not know. As she waited she realized how thick his voice had been. What was going on?

"Nick?" She asked softly, not wanting to rush him, but growing worried.

"There was a hit and run, Sara." He finished simply.

Sara let out a gasp. "Was anyone hurt, well that's a stupid question, but you know what I mean, I mean-." Sara was babbling.

"Oh god Sara, it's-," Another deep breath, his voice cracking under an unseen strain. "It's Greg."

Any shock suddenly left her system and she found herself close to laughter.

"Right. So not funny, you're like a school prankster or something! One problem, Greg's behind me."

"Sara-," Nick started but was cut off.

"I don't think it's healthy to have so much fun doing this to people, Nick." Sara commented dryly, clearly un-impressed by Nick's timing. I mean he could have at least checked that Greg wouldn't be going over to see her before phoning.

"Sara," Nick said more firmly, thinking this was just denial. "He coded in ICU, we got the call a few minutes ago."

Sara didn't know what to say, Nick was so sure, and she didn't want him to feel embarrassed. How could she explain to him that Greg was there with her.

"Look I know this is hard, but it won't do you anyone any good if you do this." Nick said, hating the silence, hating everything about the situation, while Sara was getting irritated.

"Nicky," She said"You've got it all wrong, OK? Greg's here, with me, and he has been for over thirty minutes, I'm hanging up now." And she did. Maybe it was insensitive, I mean clearly the guy was drunk, or maybe just tired, but she couldn't just listen to this crap.

Sara sighed and put a hand to her head, pushing her temples to stop a headache forming. She looked up, ready to see the look on Greg's face when she told him. She looked up, only to find that there was no one there.

**TBC**

**Please Review**


	2. Rainy Days

**Hit & Run**

**By Mellaithwen**

**Disclaimer: Anything recognizable as CSI and it's characters belongs to Anthony Zuiker and not me. **

**A/N: This is in a bit of a weird order, story wise, you'll see what I mean, and a bit short, sorry about that...AND thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!**

**Chapter 2, Rainy Days**

It wasn't often that Jim Brass found himself lost for words, but he had no idea how he was supposed to break the news.

Homicide had gotten the call. He had been about to call the CSI's when he reached the scene. Police officers stood around the body, as if protecting it somehow. He had moved closer and saw why. CSI's weren't considered officers, but they were part of the police force, and had helped put a lot of bad guys in jail, most of the young officers with Brass that night had gotten close to them.

Jim had stood, shocked, as he took in the broken body of Greg Sanders, lying dead on the ground, a pool of blood around him, his legs clearly broken. Brass found himself staring at Greg's face. It was pale, and there were two red streaks running down his left cheek where blood had poured from his mouth and nose.

"Was there any ID?" Brass had asked, out of habit more than anything else, not wanting to believe hiseyes, and not wanting to look for identification.The officers hadn't looked, they didn't want to disturb the scene. There was no need, most of the men there knew Greg, by a conversation every now and again or just in passing, but Greg's ID card couldjustbe seen amidst the blood spatter, hanging outof his pocket. Grinning at them.Ironic really. His own blood splattered on the laminated photo of himself smiling. A smile never to be seen again.

Jim took hold of his phone and had dialled the numbers. He waited and when the ringing stopped he took a deep breath and spoke all he knew.

* * *

Grissom had been in the morgue with Dr Robbins when he had received the call. 

"C.O.D was asphyxia," The Coroner told Grissom simply. "There are foreign fibres in her mouth," He said, using a pair of tweezers to extract a strand. Cotton, maybe? I'll send them over to trace." He said asheplaced thefibres into a small evidence envelope."She was raped, deep bruising on the legs and tops of the arms which suggests she was pinned. Bite marks on her neck and shoulder, more bruising on the face and ankles."

Grissom had barely any time to process this information in his mind when his phone rang in his pocket. He answered quickly with a simple "Grissom?" and Al Robbins went to get the x-rays taken of the body.

"What?" Grissom had hissed into the receiver, causing Al to look in hisdirection, and the older man found an odd expression on Gil Grissom's face. A cross between horror and sorrow. He hadn't said anything, but there was no need. With an "I'll be right there." Grissom hung up the phone and turned to Dr Robbins, who waited for an explanation.

"Greg's dead." He said breathlessly, trying to take it in and keep his emotions in check, and with that he left the room, with a shocked and unbelieving coroner in his wake.

* * *

On his way out Grissom had passed Nick and Warrick who were discussing their latest case in the break room. The supervisor of the night shift paused. They might not be a team anymore, but they had to know. 

He bit his lip when he saw Catherine enter and join in their discussion. A part of him had truly wanted for Catherine to find out some other way. Not like this. But if this was what he had to do, then he would do it.

He took a breath and walked in.

* * *

"Greg?" Sara called through the apartment "Greg?" She called again and again. She looked in the kitchen and the bedroom, but there was no sign of him. She knocked before entering the bathroom, but there was no need, it was empty too. 

She ransacked the place. She turned tables upside down, checked every cupboard, every possible hiding place, or escape route, her movements becoming more frantic, panic setting in.

"Greg, this isn't funny!" She shouted through the apartment. Maybe he'd heard Nick, maybe they were both in on this! "OK Greg I get it now, ha-ha very funny, now get in here now!"

Only silence met her ears. "Greg?" She called, her voice barely above a whisper and only getting quieter until she could barely bear open her mouth. She couldn't bear the silence she knew would meet her calls.

Her breaths became quicker and shorter. Tears fell freely down her skin, that had gone two shades paler. Sobs broke from her throat as her whole body shook. "Greg," she whispered as her knees gave way and she buried her face in her hands.

Sara crumbled, and the rain poured.

**TBC**

**Please Review!**

**Review Replies**

**kittyluv: Lol he's mine too, you'd never think so though...**

**wdbydoglyr: Is he a ghosty thing, though? I mean he wasn't transparent, and he felt the rain, and as you pointed out, he touched her.**

**Jacinda: I feel bad for upsetting you, but I'm glad I got a reaction lol :D**

**Jenny705209: Well it wasn't big, and I'm sorry for that, I'm going to try to get the chapters to be longer**

**Pick-A-Wallflower: I'm not a fan either, and I've actually been trying to write a different CSI fic for quite a while, with angst, but no character deaths, and suddenly I post this...very odd...**

**CSIwannabe: Ok, lol, thanks again.**

**CJ Lauren: I haven't seen the angel finale :-/ in fact, I've only seen up to...I'll get back to you on that...but Gunn was there...**

**Unlikely-to-bear-it: Woah there, calm down lol, here's your update**

**lins: I guess we'll never know...well I say _we..._**

**Stormchilde: glad you liked! And very glad you saw it as Greg appearing to Sara, more than a random ghost**

**UnspokenLoves: Ask and thou shalt recieve...eth**

**Emmithar: I got jitters for CSI, with my _other_ fic, then I just posted this and only have ideas for 4 odd chapters and the last one...**

**AH but is it Sara that's seeing things that aren't there? Or the things that aren't there choosing to _let_ Sara see them?**

**Just realized I had a go at you for "killing" Sara when I've gone and killed Greg!**


	3. I'm Not Okay I Promise

**Hit & Run  
**

**By Mellaithwen**

****

**Disclaimer: Anything recognizable as CSI and its characters belongs to Anthony Zuiker and not me. **

****

**A/N: This has taken a while, but funnily enough it wasn't my fault. **

**"Submit New Chapter: As result of recent infraction(s), this account has been locked ( will not have upload access ) until 05-14-05 04:12pm pst. "**

**All because some of my song-fics were removed, for being just that, song -fics. So very sorry for slow updating but I did have this chapter finished over a week ago.**

**Thank you to everyone who's been reading so far and special thanks to ****Stormchilde, ****Jacinda, ****Kagii, ****kittyluv, ****anonymous, ****Pick-A-Wallflower, ****Annibal, ****Emmithar, ****Jenny70529, ****Unlikely-to-bear-it****, frickangel and LXG-Gurl121 for reviewing.**

**03/08/05: Corrected little error at the bottom with italics**

****

**Chapter 3, I'm Not Okay (I Promise)**

There is no easy way to tell your colleagues that one of your own was dead. There is no easy way to tell anyone that someone they know, had known, and loved dearly, was dead. And even though Grissom found himself doing it at least once a day with the job, his mouth was dry as he walked into the break room, facing the team that now worked for the Swing Shift.

When you don't know the victim or his or her family, it's easier to tell them of the death. You don't feel attached, or responsible, because the grief doesn't touch you. You don't know how close the person was to the victim, and you're not afraid of telling them, despite the fact you know there's a risk of them taking their pain out on you.But this was different.

He knew Greg, they all did, and they were all close to him, attached. Grissom felt responsible, because the grief did more than_ touch_ him. Grissom was terrified of telling them, because of the risk, that they would hate him forever, just because he was the first of the to find out.

They nodded in his direction, greeting him with "Hey Grissom," 's. But he didn't nod in return, or greet them back. He just stood there, finding a small crack in the table far more interesting. His face was haggard, drawn, and he genuinely looked sad. Emotions rarely seen on this man.

"Gil?" Catherine asked, and as Grissom looked up, he saw that she was now standing right in front of him, looking concerned. His heart was beating hard against his ribs. His breathing hitched. He had to calm down, and as soon as he had said that to himself in his mind, he did.

"There's been an accident."

* * *

There was a knock at the door but Sara ignored it.

It was too…surreal. Everything was wrong, it was going around and around in her head. She had seen him, hadn't she? This had to be a horrible prank. He must have snuck out of the door without her seeing.

But she was facing the door, and the only other escape that didn't involve falling countless stories to the ground, was onto the fire exit below the kitchen window, but she would have seen him walk in there, and even if she hadn't she definitely would have heard Greg landing onto the cold surface of the metal. He'd disappeared. That is, if he was ever there in the first place.

Another knock, and another, hectic banging on the door causing it to practically shake inside it's frame. "Sara? Sara!" A voice shouted from the corridor. Sara stood up slowly and went to small peep hole in the door. She saw Nick's face, distorted by the circular viewing point. She took a deep breath. He could tell her it was a joke now, right?

She un-fastened the lock and opened the door. Nick didn't rush in, but took one look at her appearance and tear stained cheeks and embraced her in the doorway.

"Tell me it isn't real." She whispered into his shoulder, though muffled, he heard every word. He stroked her hair and held her tighter as more sobs came and her body shook.

* * *

Even now as he walked down the quiet corridor of the crime lab, Warrick couldn't remember their names. He wasn't even sure if they had told him them. He hadn't spoken to the girl, and only referred to the parents as Mr. and Mrs. Sanders.

Not once had he referred to him as Greg, or even Sanders, just 'your son' never with a name, because Warrick knew he would never be able to stay calm in that situation after his name was spoken.

He had volunteered to inform the family, but hadn't really thought it through. It had to be someone who knew Greg, but Nick knew he couldn't do it, not after Sara's reaction, and as soon as she had hung up on him the Texan had raced over to her apartment.

Warrick had volunteered, having not thought it through at all. He had only just found out himself, and people, no he himself, expected him to be professional.

And even now as the girl walked towards him, he had no idea what her name was, only that her brother was dead.

He stopped, knowing it was he she was walking towards. He smiled as much as he could and said softly "Hey," She smiled in reply and stood in silence.

She began to look around and her eyes came upon a woman working in a lab.

"Is that where he worked?" She asked, assuming it was a replacement.

"He used to," Warrick cursed himself as he realized what he had just said. "Before he went out in the field." He recovered quickly. More silence, biting away at each moment that they stood there, both of them remembering lost days.

"Was he alone?"

There was no need for an explanation.

"No," Warrick said gently. "A young woman found him and called the ambulance but by the time the EMT's arrived…"

There was only more silence as she looked away for a moment and took a breath.

"Did he-" She broke the silence, and then paused, trying to word her curiosity carefully.

"Was he in any pain?" She finished, biting her lip as she did so.

_'Should I answer like Grissom?'_ Warrick wondered. '_Tell her the gods honest truth, even if it kills her?'  
_

"No, I don't think he did." He replied, knowing it was all a lie, but knowing it was what she was looking for.

"Thank you," She said, her voice barely above a whisper, unshed tears in her eyes. "Thank you,"

* * *

Meetings with Conrad Ecklie were never ones Grissom particularly liked. In fact, he hated them, for the sole reason that he hated Ecklie, and found to his amusement that almost all of the lab shared his hatred.

But Grissom could do nothing as he walked in and sat down in front of night shift's supervisor's desk.

"I'm sorry to hear about Sanders."

_'You didn't even know him'  
_

"If any of your team need leave of some kind, then-"

_'But did you, Grissom? Did you know Greg any better than Conrad Ecklie?'  
_

"Such a shame, a newly minted CSI too-." Grissom closed his eyes, trying to calm himself.

_  
"I don't get it. I got the wrong guy, the wrong manner of death." He says, his voice filling Grissom's memory. Seeming almost scared as if it wasn't real as if he hadn't passed._

"I don't expect you to be correct in all your interpretations all the time. You collected the evidence. You thought there was something missing, you went back and found it. Hey, that's the job." He deserved it. "Congratulations, Greg." Maybe it was favoritism but Greg deserves it, and he has potential to be an excellent CSI. Had potential.

__

"Thank you." Greg says as he shakes my hand, truly meaning what he said.

__

In the doorway, Catherine holds up a bottle of champagne, while the rest of what was once my wonderful team, holding glasses, beckoning to Greg, who quickly joins them.

He's handed a glass and voices cry out "Cheers," and "To You." As the glasses clink together in a toast.

"So much potential. Such a waste.-"

_Why did this have to happen?'_

"Of a life, Conrad?" Grissom butted in "Or a position?" He asked almost growling the words, before leaving the room.

'Why does this always have to happen?'

Please Review.


	4. Out Of Reach

**Hit & Run**

**By Mellaithwen**

**Disclaimer: Anything recognizable as CSI and its characters belongs to Anthony Zuiker and not me. **

**Once again thank you for the excellent response and to everyone who reviewed! **

**Chapter 4, Out Of Reach**

_"Hey Sara." Greg called from the kitchen. _

_"Yeah?" She replied as she sat in the front room, reading a magazine, the sunlight streaming through the blinds. _

_"Your milk is so off." He laughed, a sound Sara relished to hear once more. _

_"It is?" Sara questioned as she put down her reading material and strode into her kitchen to find Greg's head in her fridge, still looking repulsed by the smell of the milk. She couldn't help but smile. She stood directly behind him and as he turned around he found himself face to face with Sara. _

_His eyes sparkled and Sara felt as though she would cry, but her tears had yet to fall. She touched his cheek, and he closed his eyes at the contact. She was touching his hair, running her fingers through the spikes that were surprisingly gel-free. She leaned in, and when he opened his eyes he didn't turn away, he leaned in too. She closed her eyes. _

_"Sara?" She heard and looked up to see Greg's lips moving, but the voice wasn't his. It was different somehow. It seemed more Southern. Greg kissed her on the cheek and whispered in her ear. "Your milk has definitely passed its sell by date." _

_"What?" _

"I said, your milk has passed its sell by date." Nick's voice called from the kitchen.

Sara opened her eyes, having only just realized they had been closed. She sat, huddled on her chair in her large sweatshirt, hugging the soft material to her skin. Nick continued to talk to her, mainly about the contents of her fridge, but she ignored him. She closed her eyes, hoping there was something left of her daydream, but there wasn't. She got up from her seat and searched the cupboard at the bottom of her large cabinet.

She took hold of a box and tipped the contents onto her glass table. Faces smiled at her from photographs of the past, but she tossed them to the side, knowing what she was looking for. Sure enough, after much scattering she found the small envelope. She held it in her hands carefully as though it was glass, fragile, and breakable.

She swept any remaining photo's back into the box and put it out of the way. She opened the envelope and carefully took out the pictures that lay in there. She spread them out on the table, and wiped away the tears falling freely from her eyes.

She looked through each one carefully but quickly. Scanning them for a smile, not just any smile, but the smile, _his_ smile.

After Greg had passed his last proficiency everyone had gone out for breakfast. Sara had grabbed her camera and hurried out with the rest of them. Sofia had been invited but had insisted on staying at the lab in case Ecklie decided to take a look around.

At the small diner Sara had whipped out the camera, and despite the groans from everyone else, she insisted she get pictures.

When developed she had shown everyone. They were good pictures. Most of them were random, and though there was no purpose to them, they were still amusing.

There was one of Catherine sneezing, her hair falling in front of her face, and Sara knew without doubt Greg had been the one to take it after seeing the older woman's nose twitch suddenly. There was one she had taken of Nick half way through eating his breakfasts, the flash making his eyes blink. There was one of Grissom, with a skeptical look on his face, one of Warrick laughing, his neck back and chest forward. There was one of herself, smiling stupidly, and once again she knew who had been behind the lens.

There were distorted pictures taken of the diner, while struggling with whomever wanted to take a picture that time, and there were many pictures of Greg, posing, with a goofy smile on his face. She found herself staring at these more than any of the others, but there was one picture she had truly been looking for, one she prized more than any other. The one picture, that upon seeing, night shift and swing shift had instantly asked for copies.

_"Full breakfasts?" A young lady from behind said, carrying four plates. _

_Nick, Warrick, Grissom and Catherine's hands went up, and the waitress placed their orders in front of them. She disappeared for a moment and returned with two more plates _

_"Pancakes, and bacon and eggs?" Greg took the latter from her hands and the waitress placed Sara's pancakes in front of her, smiled, and began to walk away. _

_"Oh wait." Greg called with a mouth full of scrambled eggs. The waitress turned around, expecting him to ask for some sort of drink, or maybe even make a complaint. She wasn't expecting him to grab the camera on the table and ask her politely if she would mind taking a picture. _

_As Sara showed her what to do, Warrick had dived across the chair and now crouched behind the seat, Catherine had climbed quickly and crouched next to him, while Nick had moved the assorted breakfasts to one side to sit on the table. Grissom sat with Greg and once the waitress knew what to do, Sara then sat on the seat next to Greg and everyone huddled in. _

_With a flash, the picture was taken. Everyone smiling, the old team, like it used to be with their breakfasts sitting idly around Nick's feet. _

Sara sighed, touching Greg's face with her index finger. It wasn't fair.

* * *

Sara walked through the lab with Nick by her side. She had to go back to work, she couldn't stay in her apartment looking at pictures all day. She hated not having Greg with her though. She hated feeling so alone, and more than anything, she hated how much she missed him.

Her hair hung listlessly on her shoulders. Her face was paler than normal and her clothes were creased, but she didn't care. She continued to walk at her slow pace towards the break room.

Grissom was sitting at the top of the table and had been watching Sara and Nick's advance for some time now. Warrick and Catherine sat two seats away.

Sara didn't say a word as she sat next to Grissom and Nick next to Warrick. Leaving an empty seat where Greg once sat.

Warrick, not wanting to focus on the empty chair any longer, instead he looked at the second and third empty seats.

"Where's Sofia and Catherine?"

"The morgue." He said simply.

"I thought Swing Shift was taking the hit-and-run?" Warrick asked quietly, knowing why Catherine was with the coroner, but not Sofia.

"You are, Sofia's just helping out."

Warrick nodded, he knew Grissom would want someone from his team on the case, and though once Warrick, Nick and Catherine had come under that category, things had changed. Sofia was the obvious choice, she knew Greg enough to do this case justice but Grissom and Sara were far too connected to Greg to be able to stay professional. Even Sara knew that, and decided to keep her silence throughout.

Grissom looked at Nick and Warrick who in turn announced that they had work to do. Nick put a hand on Sara's shoulder before leaving the room.

Night shift's supervisor turned to face Sara. He touched her chin and tilted her head up. Unshed tears were still in her eyes but she looked relatively calm.

"Are you sure you want to work today?" He asked her. She nodded hurriedly and swept her jacket across her eyes to stop any drops falling from her eyes. "I can do this, we still have a big case and there's only," She took a deep breath "There's only two of us."

Grissom nodded sadly.

"I'm gonna go look over any un-processed evidence and get it to trace." Sara announced and left the room.

* * *

"Hey," Catherine called quietly as she walked towards the morgue and Sofia nodded in her direction.

"Did Grissom say I'd be working with you?" She asked, and a 'Yeah' from Catherine sent bouts of relief through her. She'd hate to have to explain that to Catherine, having seen how she could react.

"Ready?" Sofia asked Catherine as she pushed the doors open and walked in.

Dr. Al Robbins, chief coroner was standing by the body that lay on his table. He looked up as he heard the doors swing close and greeted the two CSI's.

"There isn't much to say." He said simply, sighing as he reached for the sheet and pulled it up, revealing the pale, dead form of what had once been a CSI. Greg's face had been cleaned up, and despite the blood matted in his spiky hair, he almost looked asleep.

"C.O.D. was severe head trauma, hit the ground hard. Comminuted fractures of the proximal third tib-fib, both legs." He hobbled down to the bottom of the table "The bumper hit right below the knees." He lifted up the cloth that until then had hidden the horrid sight. Catherine looked away at the battered legs.

"Ruptured patella tendon, laceration of the saphenous vein." This horrible list went on "I found glass embedded in his skin, and some kind of black paint chips, I sent them over to trace."

Catherine nodded and made a quick exit, there was only so much she could take of being so close to Greg, and yet, being so far.

**Please Review **


	5. Something Vague

**Hit & Run**

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**By Mellaithwen**

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**Disclaimer: It doesn't belong to me.**

**Writers block's a bitch as it is, but it's only blocked for CSI and Star Wars--typical.**

**This is all I've got...and it's not a lot, at all,and I'm very sorry, but please review, even if it is to complain about the length...or lack thereof.**

_**'Brass: What, did you piss off Ecklie again? This is a hit-and-run. I was expecting Greg Sanders.'**_

**Right so where were we? Oh yes...**

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**Chapter 5, Something Vague**

As they came to one dead end after another they had branched out more. Interviewed almost every family member and acquaintance the family had ever had. School teachers and caretakers, cleaners and older children had been interviewed extensively. Sara sighed, it had been a long day, but it was a welcome distraction from doubting her own sanity.

She looked down at the case file as she waited with Grissom for their last interviewee. He was Jenna's uncle and though close family relations in Nevada had been interviewed first, only recently had they been able to track him down. The family had no registered number or address and neither did their database.

* * *

Sofia stood in front of Hodges.

"Did you analyze the black paint chips we found on Greg?" Sofia asked.

"Yes, I did." David replied, finding it hard to hear her use his name. Greg may not have beenhis favorite person, hell, he mocked him enough for the entire lab to know his true feelings, but he would never wish him dead, and truth betold, he missed the guy.

He reached for the results a solemn look on his face. He cleared his throat and read off of the sheet of paper.

"Aluminum and styrene definitely car paint, done in a body shop, factory paint contains melamine not styrene." He handed the results over to Sofia, who pursed her lips in thought.

"And there were trace amounts of another colour."

"What?"

"Well body shops tend to re-paint, they don't remove the original colour, and this was some quick job. There are trace amounts of a dark green underneath the black."

"Dark green…."

"Does that mean anything to you?"

"Testimonies from neighbors in Henderson where Jenna Mason was murdered say they saw a dark green SUV driving away, her body was found in the park…"

* * *

"Name's Rex Mason," He spoke up politely, but Sara didn't care for his small talk. Her mind wasn't on the job and she knew it, but she wouldn't compromise this case, and she knew she could focus if she tried. Before she could think of an answer Grissom began asking the simple questions.

Where he was at that time.

_At home._

And where is that exactly?

_Down by Henderson, only just bought it._

Can anyone verify that?

_Neighbour, complained about the volume on the stereo_.

What kind of car do you drive?

_SUV but it's been in my garage for weeks._

The questions became background noise, and the only thing she could focus on was his tone. His un-fazed tone.

"Considering you're niece was murdered you don't seem to upset."

The question was blunt, and she ignored the look she got from Grissom. Rex however, as before, was un-fazed.

"I've never even met the girl," He said simply, and leaned in "Look me and my brother had this fight years ago, before he was even married and I ain't spoken to him since. Yeah it's sad that she's dead but I didn't even know her, OK? Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do that sit around here and be accused of crap. Next time talk to my lawyer."

**TBC**


	6. Everything Burns

**Hit & Run**

**By Mellaithwen**

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**Disclaimer: Soon I tell ye! SOON!**

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**Sorry for the wait, won't happen again!**

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**Chapter 6, Everything Burns**

They had talked to his lawyer; they had done more than that. After many a counsel with themselves over lunch they had agreed that their most likely suspect was in fact, Mr Rex Mason.

After getting issued with a warrant, Rex Mason had grudgingly allowed the CSI's to take his SUV from their car park to their lab/garage.

It was the exact same kind of car, though a different colour, that witnesses had seen drive away from the scene of the murder, and the CSI's already knew the body had been moved from there.

Nick had walked past the garage, he took a double take. There, in the lab's garage sat a black SUV, with red specs on its headlight. He stood in the doorway his mouth wide open

Sara had decided to stretch her legs from the paper work she was going through. Haunted by morbid scenarios and fantasies, she found it more than a little hard to focus on the case, on either of them, and was sure she couldn't trust her judgement or emotions right now. She was kept in the loop but when it was a decision between herself and Grissom on who should re-analyse some of the evidence, the answer had been clear.

She stopped outside the garage, with nothing else to do, she merely watched, wondering if she should talk to someone, anyone, and maybe Nick was the best person. He had been there for her before, and he was grieving too. For now though, she would just watch him work.

* * *

Nick Stokes was kneeling in front of Rex Mason's car, a black land rover. The man had willingly allowed it to be taken into the lab's garage when he had driven here himself no more than an hour ago.

Near the headlight Nick could see flecks of blue paint coming away and a dark green layer of paint showing through, just like the ones they had found on Jenna Mason's ankle.

The head light itself was smashed and there were small droplets of blood showing on one of the glass edges. And he could see flecks of blue paint coming away and a dark green layer of paint showing through, just like the ones they had found on Jenna Mason's ankle.

He confirmed it was blood and swabbed it for DNA. He opened his case and took out the luminol. He switched off the lights in the garage and sprayed the chemical over the front of the car. He felt sick as the spray revealed all of the washed away blood that covered the entire bonnet and small parts at the top of the windshield, but the glass of the front window was spotless.

Nick got up, his knees cracking as he did so after the odd position he had been in. He walked out of the door, nodding to Sara with a sympathetic smile, hoping she didn't feel shunned as he then watched her walking away to continue with her work.

He was hiding his findings just in case he was wrong, though there was no question about it, and Nick knew, even before handing the DNA sample over to Mia;

This wasn't just night shift's case anymore.

* * *

"New wind shield?" Nick asked calmly as he sat down opposite Rex Mason. He had explained the situation to Grissom, who had in turn allowed him to interview Mr Mason.

"No,"

"Really? 'Cause we checked your credit card details and you paid for a new windshield to be put in." Brass voiced sceptically.

"So what? There's no crime in getting your windshield replaced." Rex Mason's lawyer voiced, his cocky tone filling the room.

"And the guy that replaced it was very helpful" Nick continued, ignoring the lawyer.. "Identified you as being the owner of the car, and you know what else?" Rex shook his head "He remembers the smell too, as if it had 'been through a car wash five times'." Nick quoted.

"Yeah, I remember now, bird hit it." He smirked at his own casual response. After all it was plausible.

"Except it wasn't a bird was it? It was a person, a hit and run."

"Dude, it wasn't some guy, it was a bird."

"Keep quiet." His lawyer suddenly advised, seeing his clients mistake before Mr Mason had. The slip-up was clear, and it gave the confidence Nick needed.

"Who ever mentioned a guy?" Nick asked, and for once, Mr Rex Mason was lost for words.

"You know what I think?" Nick said as the interview continued, his voice rose. "I think you killed your niece, you took her body, you threw it in the backseat, dumped her in the park went through the car wash and then went to the body shop. You re-painted your car, in case someone saw your dark green SUV, but then something happened on your way back, didn't it?"

"Mr Stokes, I will not stand for you to talk to my client this way. We're leaving."

But Rex Mason didn't move. He gulped, looking down, wondering, his cool act trod on, and guilt seeping through the cracks…

**TBC**

**Please Review!**


	7. The Ghost Of You

**Hit & Run**

**By Mellaithwen**

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**Disclaimer: No, no, no, not mine, now stop rubbing it in Anthony!**

**Not long now…This is a bit of a filler really in case I don't get the last chapter done soon**

**Saw first episode of the new CSI:Miami series last night (I know, Britain's behind) but Speed! I don't even watch it that often but I was still screaming!**

**Chapter 7, The Ghost Of You**

_Greg Sanders edged out of his lab, announcing his much needed break after a rather long tirade of nagging from his-not-so-friendly colleague David Hodges that if his eyelids dropped once more he would take over. _

_Though the tired Greg would have gladly given his work to another, he would never trust things as important as these in the hands of Mousier Hodges, who on his best days was a complete kiss-ass._

_He walked through the hallways, looking through the glass into each and every lab he passed, simple faces of those he knew staring through the scopes, analysing the evidence, sorting through the paperwork. Doing their jobs. _

_He sighed._

_Maybe he shouldn't just take a break. Granted the last real break he took was yesterday, but there was so much work to do. No, he steeled himself. He would get a cup of coffee, a decent cup, annoyed at himself for forgetting to bring in his own new batch of Blue Hawaiian. _

_In all honesty the coffee didn't appeal to him, but it was the purpose, the need to do something, relatively science free (as far as drinking it was concerned) He crossed the road and walked along the road on the sidewalk, and seeing a small café, he strolled in._

_He didn't bother taking off his jacket, he merely strode in, ordering, getting the odd stare and whispers. What was a doctor doing out here? _

_He almost laughed as the people left the café leaving him alone with the server and a woman sitting alone, swirling her spoon in whatever food was in the bowl that sat across from her. He looked at her as he waited for his order. _

_She was pretty, and as she felt his gaze, she too looked up and he flashed a grin. She blushed slightly, though it was barely noticeable in the dim lights, and she smiled back. She looked like Sara, her hair was the same length, and he half wondered that had she smiled a smile showing her teeth if there would be a small gap between the her two front teeth. _

_He sighed as he thought about Sara, the last time he had seen her he had thought about asking her out, really considered it, and in his head, he was close to doing so, but in actual fact his nerves would always get the better of him, the only time he could ever say he had come close to asking her out was if he ever succeeded in doing so. _

"_Here you go, sir." The man behind the counter cut in through Greg's reverie sleepily_

_Maybe he did look like a doctor, or at least, his coat looked like one. The again, maybe the man was just being polite._

_He looked down at the coffee swirling in the Styrofoam cup, paying the man, and shooting him a smile he left the café, catching a glance at his watch he hurried his pace down the roadside back to work. _

_Or so he thought._

_After walking, paying more attention to the java slowly growing cold beneath his fingertips, he stopped suddenly. Either this street had just changed its entire look, or, being the over-worked, over-tired man he was, he'd just walked over two blocks in the wrong direction without noticing. _

_He growled under his breath, tossing the cup into a nearby bin, not caring for the waste of his own money at buying it. He casually looked both ways, straining his ears and hearing nothing, he crossed the road._

_There was a bump as something hit the pavements edge, and Greg span around in time to see the car heading straight for him. Instinct told him to move, common sense told him to move, but by the time his own brain was telling him to do so, it was too light. _

_He opened his mouth, a cry that was barely above a whisper left his mouth as he realized what was going to happen, and the driver was shouting too, though why, he didn't know, there was no avoiding what was going to happen and time seemed to slow as his own hoarse voice screamed in denial. Greg took in the man's face, his mind working over drive as the missing adrenaline found other ways to reach him. He looked at the man's appearance._

_...Headlights shine but he doesn't turn away..._

_He looked at his shirt; dyed an unnatural red._

_...His eyes are almost blinded by the light that glares, distant screeches fill the air..._

_Blood red. The man was covered in blood._

_...A bang, a crack, and nothing but pain..._

_Greg Sanders, a CSI to the end._

**Please Review!**


	8. Half Light

**Hit & Run**

**By Mellaithwen**

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**Disclaimer: For the last time, I want it, but I don't got it, capiche? (is that how you spell it?) And the lyrics belong to the wonderful Athlete**

**This is it. The last chapter, thank you to everyone who reviewed, they DO make the world go around you know.**

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**Chapter 8, Half Light**

"Mr Mason." His lawyer called again, and Rex looked up, avoiding the CSI's eyes, there was an obvious slump in his shoulders. Nick raised his hands. "Stay here." He commanded, knowing there was enough evidence to get him convicted, it was just a matter of fetching Brass.

When Grissom saw Nick and Brass striding quickly to one of the interrogation rooms he wasted no time in joining them, the other two understanding, and feeling the same way when Catherine too joined them.

Grissom had wanted to see his face. He had wanted to see him and he couldn't explain why. Was he facing his fears? Not fear of the man who sat down being interrogated, but of the notion that this wasn't the guy, that somewhere Greg's killer was still out there. Still driving. They would get him for one death, if not both Greg's and Jenna Mason's, Grissom wouldn't stand for anything short of the death penalty.

He had stayed in the corner, and simply watched with Nick, as Catherine and Brass made their case to the lawyer present. Every piece of evidence was mounted against him. This would be the last interrogation with this man, before his trial, and his conviction.

As Grissom sat there, a memory of an old case came to his mind. That had been a hit and run too.

_'When a driver hits a pedestrian the presumption is the driver is negligent, when a drivers been drinking and hits a pedestrian, it's no longer negligence it's reckless homicide'_

"When you hit a person with your car and drive away, it isn't an accident, its murder. You drove away, because your backseat was covered in blood." Grissom said softly from where he stood, while Nick kept quiet, clenching his fists and telling himself not to kill Mason there and then.

"Didn't wanna risk your car being brought in, Mr. Mason? Thought you'd just go straight to the body shop didn't you." Brass asked.

"But you know what," Catherine said, a grim smile on her face "You can clean a car as much as you want but Jenna Mason's blood is still all over the back seat and Greg Sanders' blood is still all over the bonnet."

"You raped and murdered a little girl, and you're responsible for the death of a truly great man," Catherine continued from her place opposite Mason. Her voice was strong, while inside she was shaking but not once did she falter in her words.

"I'm going to make it my mission that you get a needle in your arm." She hissed and stood up, leaving the room, files in hand. Grissom followed her outside but as Catherine made her way to her own office, Grissom realized how far apart they were now, and felt strangely distant.

In the interrogation room Rex Mason had been left alone save for the two silent officers at the door, who looked at him as though he were a pile of garbage. He felt as though a stone had dropped in his stomach. He knew that these people wouldn't rest until he was dead, and a part of him knew they wouldn't have to try hard.

While outside Gil Grissom, a man known for not showing his feelings, a stoic man, sometimes described as cold, slid down the wall to the ground and buried his face in his hands.

* * *

Sara stood in the doorway watching the couple huddle together, gripping each others hands. She took a deep breath and entered the room. "Mr and Mrs Mason?" She called. They looked up suddenly. Sara walked over to them and sat on the table opposite where they sat.

"Is it, is it over?" Mrs Mason whispered, hardly able to believe their daughter's killer had been found, his identity a cruel reminder of how they should have prevented it all.

Sara put her hand atop of theirs, still entwined.

"Yes, it's over."

Husband and wife embraced and Sara left them to their privacy, wishing more than anything that it really was over, but as she passed the lab, the quiet lab, with no music blaring through the stereo, though it had been that way for a while after Greg began to go out into the field. No dancing lab tech, 'CSI' she corrected, just emptiness.

She knew it would never be over, and at that moment, the lab described Sara Sidle perfectly. She was empty. An eerie silence coupled with the exhaustion of the past week or so made Sara want to do nothing more than leave and go home to sleep, maybe even dream sweet memories instead of reliving the nightmare that was her life.

* * *

"Rex Mason, I am arresting you for the rape and murder of Jenna Mason, the murder of Greg Sanders and leaving the scene of an accident." Brass felt a strange pleasure as he said the words as though he had been waiting to do so.

He grabbed the man roughly by his bound wrists, pushing him forward down the hallway.

Faces, angry and solemn poked out of their labs. The work of the Crime Scene Investigators and lab techs of Las Vegas came to a stand still as America's finest glared at the man in cuffs, stumbling over his feet, regrets pushing down on him. He kept his eyes on the ground as he saw more and more people's feet line up around him.

The nails of the officer behind him digging in to his arms, but he didn't dare complain. He knew it would only intensify if they knew they were making him uncomfortable.

The buzz of machines stopped, and silence reigned all around the building.

"Asshole." He heard someone whisper to the side, but he didn't acknowledge them. He didn't look, or try to answer in his smart-arse attitude. He kept walking through the hallway, until the doors came into view. The sunlight shining through them.

But he wasn't walking towards freedom, nor redemption. The light was the opposite of the darkness in him. The darkness he would know as he sat in his four by four cell, paying the price for his sins.

* * *

A policeman on his motor-bike led the many cars to the small clearing where the procession was being held. The cars parked, and the people filed out, all seeming so similar in their black attire. Smartly dressed so that Sara could almost imagine the males sweeping the women into their embrace, dancing as they twirled to the site, where officers waited for their orders.

Sara stood, arms folded across her chest. Tear drop after tear drop falling onto her black dress, little wet marks not showing through the dark fabric. Her hair was tied back and two strands hung down by her face, curled slightly at the bottom. Her face was pale; it had been for a while now.

Silver streaks of tears stained her cheeks but she made no effort to wipe them away. She had watched as the priest proceeded with the ceremony that would lead to the man she loved being buried six feet under ground.

She had stayed there, a part of her wanting to collapse to the ground, to fall and hope that someone would catch her. Or at least see her fall, but she didn't. She stood her ground and grieved in horrible, lonely, sadness that tore at her heart and crumpled her spirit to ash.

Ash

Ashes

_"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."_

She felt like screaming at the priest to be quiet. To stop with his meaningless words; his empty condolences. What did he know? He worshipped someone he'd never even met. He went from blessing newborns to burying them when they died. His world was a circle of life and death. How could her deal with that?

She had seen people who believed in God mourn as much as any atheist, so why then does he not cry. Yes, he didn't know the deceased, but it's still a life lost. It's still a waste of a kind, honest, wonderful man. Surely that deserves a tear! She was being ridiculous, and she knew it.

Nick Stokes, Gil Grissom and Warrick Brown had helped carry the coffin to where it would be buried, along with some of Greg's family, while others from the lab, old friends and family watched. The members of the police force that were gathered around them stepped forward and after placing the coffin down on the specially placed holder, they lifted the American flag off of its surface, and folded it expertly, until it was naught but a small square held in the white gloved hands on the senior officer.

He stepped forwards, his feet precise, and gave the flag to the grieving mother, his head bowed as he did so, before stepping back and saluting her, while his officers did the same. He turned back around and joined his patrol, and as the coffin was laid into the six foot deep hole by members of the CSI team, the officers took their place in a line, lifting their guns, listening for the cry from their senior officer and letting the bullets shoot through the barrel and out into the sky. Another cry, another shot, the same again and again. The ritual of the burial being performed perfectly.

Sara had stood there, Catherine by her side. A hand on her shoulder. Comforting, well, trying to, but not succeeding. They all knew how close she had gotten to Greg since the team split. The hollow hole would never be filled. She walked over to where there they had lowered him into the ground, to where Greg's mother and father stood, the latter with his arm around the smaller woman.

All around her people were waiting to fill the remaining space with soil. She took hold of the lily she had kept and threw it into the ground, watching with detached fascination as it landed on his final resting place.

Sara walked back and waited as the funeral proceeded barely registering anything that happened next, people said their peace, kind words, and comforting praise, and soon, it was over. The crowd began to disperse, the Tahoe's and the hearse's waiting, parked on the road as people filed into the black cars. Greg's parents said inaudible words to their son, before his father led his sobbing wife away. Sara looked at Catherine, and the older woman knew she wanted to be alone and she left they younger woman with her thoughts.

She couldn't get the thought of him being behind her when she had received the news, a time that seemed so long ago. She had spoken with him, and he had replied, she hadn't dreamt it, how could she have? She didn't even know then! She sighed, and took a shaky breath. Sweet memories would haunt her forever as she tried to sleep, horrible regrets and the knowing that you have no idea what you have until it's gone.

As Sara began to walk away from the grave she bowed her head, but the wind bristling past her hear made her look up. Far away, at the very back of the cemetery she saw a figure. She smiled in recognition at his spiky hair and wide grin. She closed her eyes, the wind blew again, and she felt a small pressure on her lips, when she opened her eyes she could have sworn she saw another pair staring straight at her, but as the lights fell away and they focused, she saw nothing but the empty hill stretching in front of her.

'_So when I see you next we'll make the most of it,  
__Tell the sun to start moving again,  
__The taste of your kiss I still got on my lips,  
__And I'll take you there with me-'Athlete_

**The End**

**Please Review, it would be nice seeing as it's the last chapter and all...**


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